Certain Saturdays in Kingsport, TN, we would wake up early, go down to the Krispy Kreme, and load up Mrs. Miller’s station wagon with boxes and boxes of glazed donuts. We’d take them, by the dozens, of course, throughout our neighborhoods, selling for $2.50 a box as a fundraiser for the church youth group. I remember walking along with my arms loaded up with these boxes, sweating, knocking on doors, acting like it would be such a relief if the person who answered would just take 3-4 boxes off my hands, plus they would be helping me do the Lord’s work. Have to confess, I’m kind of a good salesperson when I put my mind to something. I remember thinking this was hard work because it seemed always to be already 80 degrees at 7:00 on a summer morning when we would do this. I had no idea what kids in other parts of the world were having to do to help out their families and community, just to get something to eat, not to raise money for a beach trip.

This weekend, I’m staying in Midtown Atlanta as I’ve rented Chez Crickette out for Labor Day weekend. If you don’t know what goes on in our Metro Area, let me tell you, it’s pandemonium. There’s the Decatur Book Festival, DragonCon, I think mulitple sportsball events, and tourists from everywhere just pour into the city. It was a wise business decision for me to rent out my place. I usually do because generally I head to the Clear Creek Festival in Berea, KY this time of year, but because of all that life is right now, and because I had been missing all that goes on in my community for the last several years, I decided to stay put. Sort of. You know, like I said, I rented out my place.

So, here I find myself staying at the home of my childhood friend, Cliff, who has made his way back to Tennessee for Labor Day.


Me and Cliff at Chomp & Stomp, our local chili & bluegrass festival. He took me out right after I’d gone through a break-up. Because chili and clown noses make everything better.

Sidebar: We always tell people this when we meet new acquaintances together. Cliff was my first boyfriend. We ‘went together’ in middle school. Our first date, in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday in sixth grade, was to see Who Framed Roger Rabbit?  where we held hands in such an awkward way our hands fell asleep. Later on, in high school, we went to junior prom together because we didn’t have dates with anyone else.

Cliff lives in a very different part of town from me, the very buzzing, cosmopolitan area. When I’ve come to visit, I’ve always noticed that there is a Krispy Kreme store right up the street, but I never, until now, took the time to investigate. Because the place is so big and always full of people, I had it in my mind that it was somehow the flagship store.

This morning I woke up and realized that I had brought milk and my french press, but no coffee (because when I packed up yesterday, I thought I was staying someplace else). I had also left my yogurt, berries, and trail mix in the fridge at the other place I thought I was staying.

In other words, it was time to make my acquaintance with the Krispy Kreme.

It turns out that I was wrong. Krispy Kreme is based in Winston-Salem, NC. However, this place is so dreamy nonetheless. It really has some charm. Please add onto this the countless children running around dressed in their DragonCon outfits. Nothing beats a tiny robot jumping up and down watching donuts get made.

It also turns out that, whereas I used to sell Krispy Kreme donuts for $2.50 a dozen, one single donut is now $1.09.

I sat and read for a while as I savored my one glazed donut. Dared not have more because something about everything that’s happening in my life right now seems to be packing on the pounds around my middle section.

There I was, once again relating to a Krispy Kreme on a Saturday morning out of an effort to raise money, but not having to do anything other than thoroughly clean my house and not be in it for the weekend. I don’t think I even drank coffee the last time I ate a Krispy Kreme donut, though I must be remembering that incorrectly.

On the walk home, over broken sidewalks with litter and the faint whiff of urine, juxtaposed with sprawling, wild, deep purple morning glories under the service of tiny yellow butterflies, I marveled over how the weather just seems to know when September arrives. There was a distinctive change here in the air starting on September 2.

May the fall bring change that is both necessary and inevitable. Sweet and able to be savored.